


Seventh Floor Snippets

by Kensalyn



Category: Overlord - Maruyama Kugane & Related Fandoms
Genre: brain bunnies, just little one shots, not canon, unless otherwise specified, we'll see how many of these happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-10-22 17:32:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17666999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kensalyn/pseuds/Kensalyn
Summary: Demiurge was unaware that life in the realm of the Supreme Beings would be so... well.  Suffice it to say, this was very different from what he’d expected.This is a collection of one-shots for my fic "Real Life on the Seventh Floor.”  Really, just plot bunnies that I didn't want to write into the actual plot, but that were far too fun in my head to keep away from.  I hope you enjoy them!





	1. Chapter 1

 

  You first saw it when you were headed out for groceries.  It stared at you from behind a parked car across the street, green eyes hardly blinking as it watched your movements.  It looked young, maybe a year old or so, it’s fur still gleaming with the softness most street cats didn’t keep for long. You stared back, grinning contentedly, enthralled as it cocked its head forward to see you better from around the tire as you passed by.

  It was still there when you returned, Demiurge holding all the bags but one, which you had convinced him to let you take because it held the jerky you’d bought as a snack.  As you approached, the little black cat let out a light “mew” and and pattered cautiously towards you, stepping gracefully on the edges of it’s toes.

  “Aww, what a sweet kitty,” you cooed, bending down to a crouch.

  “Does it amuse you?”  Demiurge asked, eyeing it over much like he had the marbled slabs of meat at the store.  “I could catch it for you.”

  The cat froze as he walked up behind you, untrusting of the demon but very interested in the jerky you were now holding out.  You snickered at the casual suggestion as though it were a joke and set the jerky down on the ground, retracting your hand so as to allow the cat a measure of security.  “Are you telling me you want a pet?”

  “A pet?  Of course not,” and you could hear the curl in his lip as he spoke, “A creature that is incapable of caring for oneself is no more than a plaything for those who can.  I have much more valuable things to do with my time. However, you know very well the value I place on your happiness, and for that I would gladly take up the task.”

  “And you know how I feel about one-sided happiness,” you said, eyebrows raised, like the corners of your lips.  “So, no pets for us, then. Besides, she takes care of herself out here just fine, doesn’t she?” You cooed again at the cat, holding out another small piece of jerky which it gently slipped out of your fingers before devouring.  “Look at her, knows just how cute she needs to be to get a little food, hmm?” You beamed at the cat once more as it purred, blinking slowly into your eyes. You stood, and it turned and flicked it’s tail up into a tight curl before releasing it and staring at you, finally sidling back over towards the car it hid behind.  “Ooh, attitude,” you giggled, eyes gleaming as you watched it run off.

  “Ok, let’s get the ice cream inside before it melts,” you sang, walking towards the building.  Demiurge stood still for a moment, watching the spot the cat had disappeared to, then turned to follow you through the doors.

 

* * *

 

  “Well!  That’s enough binge-watching for me for one night,” you said, swinging your legs to the side and stretching them across the couch as you hit the “off” button on the tv remote.  Your feet wiggled between Demiurge’s legs and the couch back, settling in nice and warm. He leaned slightly to the side to allow you to do so as he glanced up from his laptop to watch you stretch.

  “I’m almost finished with these reports; is there something else you’d like to do before turning in for the night?”

  You sighed contentedly, pulling up the blanket you’d been under so that it balled up across your chest.  “Eh, I dunno… Maybe. But I should wait for tomorrow. I’ve already been so lazy tonight...” You eyed the kitchen hungrily.

  Demiurge’s teeth gleamed as he smirked at you.  “Ice cream, Lady Mira? Really, at this hour?”

  You tried to pout at him, but his teasing tone forced a smile onto your face.  “It’s just so good! We got the good brand this time, I can’t help it.”

  “Hmm.  Well, if it can’t be helped...”  His smile grew wider, and he stood up, snapping the laptop shut and dropping it to the coffee table.  He bowed, his crystalline eyes coming down level with yours. “I suppose I’ll just have to get you a bowl.”

  Your smile didn’t fade, but your brow furrowed.  “No wait, you have work! I can get my own--”

  Demiurge had already begun to walk away, and as you began to protest, an idea occurred to him.  Rolling the end of his tail into a tight curl, he raised it high and flicked it upward and towards you, then turned to make eye contact.

  He saw your eyes rise with a snap from his displayed ass to his gaze, and the thrill of the above-and-beyond success in his little experiment caused his own eyes to open wider, crystal glittering in the dim light.  “Allow me,” he purred. Your eyes slid right back down as he sauntered away, which, unbeknownst to you, he could clearly see thanks to the sheen of the glass-framed art hanging on your wall.

  Perhaps there was a use or two for a cat after all, he mused, heart pumping as he opened the freezer.  Tomorrow he might just take some jerky down to the street himself.

 

* * *

 

  Weeks later you were both headed out to lunch with Alanna, the three of you discussing a possible get-together again with the building tenants as you stepped out the front doors.  You looked over just in time to see the cat zip across the street to Demiurge’s side, pacing in front of him with a meow but careful not to rub against the fabric of his suit; it had learned quickly affection and food was not to be gained that way.  Still, Demiurge leaned down and picked it up with gloved hands, plopping it into the crook of his arm as he felt it’s belly to analyze it’s purr without a hitch in his step.

  Alanna grinned at the sight.  “Well! Here’s a side of Demiurge I’ve yet to see.  I had no idea you had a fondness for cats.”

  “ ‘Fondness’ is a little misleading,” he replied, reaching into a pocket.  “Intrigued may be a more accurate descriptor. They are intelligent creatures capable of manipulating their way into favorable circumstances, and there is much to be learned in their underlying psychological behaviors.”

  You rolled your eyes and sighed at Alanna.  “Don’t get him started.”

  She grinned innocently at him after a mischievous glint in your direction.  “If you’re looking for a tutor in manipulative psychology,” she said lightly, “you certainly couldn’t have picked a better pet to adopt.”

  “I haven’t--”

  Demiurge froze midstep.   Alanna’s grin grew. The cat nibbled on the treat in his hand.

  He was far too dignified to say it, but the “Well, shit” was apparent on his face.

  “It would appear so,” he admitted between his teeth.

  “You may want to consider bringing it indoors once winter hits,” Alanna said in the same even tone, but she flaunted her victory with a bit of ladylike swagger in her step.  “It gets quite cold in the city.”

  Demiurge just “hmm”ed in a grumpy reply, while you couldn’t restrain a giggle as he continued to stroke the cat’s chin.  You started making a shopping list in your head.

  You were gonna need a lot of cat toys.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Demiurge is a cat person don’t @ me. ... I mean like, actually a cat-person. Like he has cat-like tendencies. Like that tail flick was already happening subconsciously and he totally just never paid attention before. I ship Demi and tail-flip


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! It’s been a minute, huh?
> 
> Now, I’ve never seen The Godfather, but you know that one famous line where the guy goes “I keep tryna get out, and they pull me back in again”? I feel that way with the busy-level in my life. Just when I think I’ve jumped one hurdle, lo and behold! There yonder breaks a new challenger! Thus, I haven’t had much chance to write lately. It’s literally shortening my life span y’all. I’m convinced it is.
> 
> But I’m addicted, so even when I must sacrifice my sleep and sanity, writing eventually finds a way. So here’s a little snippet! In the first few chapters on my main fic, some people asked if Demiurge was still present in the New World or not despite being somehow transported with you/Mira/Lady Zoba, and this is my more complete answer to that question.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this tidbit! Have a great day, and I’ll see you in the comments!

  Under the earth in the Tomb of Nazarick, creatures bustled about, attending to their daily duties within its great expanse.  They cared for the needs of its multitude of defences, oiled the well-tuned machines within its depths, fed the many devoted soldiers.  On one of its floors, equipment and tools were washed and polished as denizens were expertly honed to their reach their greatest abilities, while in another distant corner much farther below the ground, numbers of expense were double and triple checked for a minuscule inconsistency or a greater advantage.  Like clockwork, the tomb cared for itself, meeting the needs of those within, prepared for anything that might lie without. Like clockwork, the pattern of progress continued forward, nothing altering or changing from the path that had been divinely set before it, and no reason for it to ever deviate from that routine way of life.

  It was a day like any other by all observable accounts.  But Demiurge knew better.

  There was something about this day that seemed final to him, in a dreadful sort of way.  The floors of Nazarick had long since ceased to be filled with the glorious presence of dozens of Supreme Beings, and it felt all the more a tomb for that absence, despite the lack of change this had caused in the inner workings of Nazarick itself.  But even though they had not all left, even though there were still two lights of Sumpremity yet in Nazarick, a heavy foreboding had increased over the past few weeks emanating from these last of them. Concerning this day, it seemed ready to boil over from their divine forms into the very halls of the tomb.  It was the sort of inescapable foreboding that had been experienced at a lesser level within these walls before. At the previous departures of Supreme Beings.

  The idea of losing the last of the Creators was enough to set Demiurge’s veins with an icy heat.  However he tried to mull the issue over, he saw nothing effective he could do to prevent the event, whatever the cursed thing was, from taking place.

  Lord Momonga had arrived earlier in the day, and Demiurge had received reports that he was traversing the lower levels.  One other Supreme Being had stopped by apparently, though Demiurge had not learned who it was, and they did not stay long.  That did not bode well either; it reeked of a closing conversation rather than a friendly visit.

  He hoped, then, that the visitor had not been you.  Gods, he hoped it had not been you.

  You, the Four-Horned Djinn Lady Zoba, had been busy the past few weeks.  You had hardly even been spending your usual time near his assigned sentry position to chat.  With an added tool he had not seen another Supreme Being use before, you had been plenty busy cataloguing the details of Nazarick.  Just yesterday you had been working in his home, but unlike what he knew had happened in the residence of the other guardians, you had not done the same work to him as with his surroundings.

  Had you deemed him unworthy of such a thing?  Had he in some way displeased you? Your brief explanations of what you had been up to led the denizens of Nazarick to understand that you were somehow preserving their memory, etching their likenesses as a copy to be taken home, carried off to the realm of the Supreme Beings.  Each Guardian had been buzzing with both the excitement that they might be once again presented in some form to their Creators, and the anxiety of what such a need for preservation might mean. When you had come to each home in turn, they had puffed out their chests, posed to their best ability, placed their love for their Supreme Being at the forefront of their minds.  Demiurge had been preening his suit for days, dizzy at the chance of being presented in some small way before Lord Ulbert yet again.

  And then you had led him aside from his home, and set to work without him present.  When you were finished, you led him back to his position and left.

  You had said you would be back today.  You’d said you would return to see him.  You’d said it with such mourning.

  Perhaps it was not you who had decided to leave him from the record.  Perhaps it had been requested by another.

  The thought ached worse than anything else.  What if, in that other realm, the Supreme Beings had gathered and asked you to do them this favor before abandoning them all?  What if some had asked for their favorite creations to be recorded for them? And what if…?

  No.  He banished the thought.  Lord Ulbert had created him with the utmost care and precision.  He had been proud of him, Demiurge was sure of it. He would have also put forth such a request, if there was one to be made.  Lord Ulbert had been immensely proud of the devil he formed.

  These doubts were silly, he reasoned.  His crystal eyes bore holes into the opposite wall through his narrowed lids, ears twitching against his thoughts that, to his mind, bordered on treasonous.  You said you would be back. You would be back.

  A tinkling echoed from the hallway.

  He heaved a sigh of relief he hadn’t realized he had been holding as the noise met his ears.  He knew that sound anywhere. Your feet had blessed the floor of the Burning Temple yet again, and the bells at your ankles filled the hot air with their gentle music.  You had fulfilled your promise; his Lady was once again in his home, and he felt his chest fill with a doomed hope. Twitching the restlessness from his tail and straightening the front of his jacket, he lamented not for the first time that the presence of the Supreme Beings rendered those such as him unable to do more than obey direct orders.  That was as it should be, as even beholding such glory was gift enough, but what he wouldn’t give to be able to compose a word from his lips to your ear. So many times, you had left him with a suspicion of deeper desires concerning him, and he longed to utter a single affirmation to you. And now, if the foreboding that the whole of Nazarick tried to deny was true, such an opportunity would never come.  This was your final visit; this was the end.

  You came into view, and he felt his voice seize at the sight.  He filled his eyes with your form and marveled at your majesty:  The vitality in your blue hue, the lean muscle just under your flesh, your adornment accenting perfect movements… but still he waited as one of your arms raised, his heart beating as he prepared himself for the unequaled view he most craved to see one last time.

  The grinning mask vanished from before you, and your true smile graced upon him.

  You did not remove your mask for just anyone, and he took the greatest pride in that fact; none of the other guardians knew you beneath the sharp edged visage, none of them knew your gentle features, and he was quite smug about it when his Lady would come up in conversation among them.  He had grown smug enough to mention it before, and while they pestered him for details, he offered none. This was a privilege you had granted him, and he would not betray such a sacred knowledge without express permission to do so. It was a treasure he valued too greatly to speak of in gossip.

  Perhaps he would now be the only being to be able to claim such a privilege.  Aside from, he was sure, other Supreme Beings, naturally. Perhaps he would be the only to know the shape of your nose, the arch of your brows, the lines of your lips.  Part of him found joy in the thought.

  Another part deeply mourned it.

  You trotted over to him, a finger extended to call his information into existence before you, sitting in the air like a beam of magic shaped as only a Creator could shape.  He watched your eyes dance over the words and felt his heart swell with pride as you hummed a short note of approval. Lord Ulbert’s work was praiseworthy, as you yourself had told him many times.  Then to his delight (and admittedly to his relief), you called forth the “menu” for your personal tool, and set to work, aligning it’s workings over the window to Demiurge’s being after a moment of it chirping back at you while you adjusted it.

  He was needed.  Wanted. Of course he was.  Really, how shameful of him to doubt.

  He felt an odd tingling along his spine a few moments after the tool set to work.  The others hadn’t mentioned anything about this, but it was a small sensation; perhaps it simply had been an insignificant detail.  No matter; his attention belonged fully elsewhere from himself, and he turned it with purpose back to you. You had turned to him, away from your work, your eyes flitting back and forth between his own.  You spoke.

  “Well… this is it, I guess,” you murmured.  He felt a shock despite the words confirming what he had already despised to believe.  But the next words struck him as a new horror. “Yggdrasil is done.”

  The end of Yggdrasil?  The very world itself was ending?!

  Surely that wasn’t what you meant.  No, perhaps you simply meant that you were finished with this place.  That the Supreme Beings were finished with it as a whole. There were no signs of the world itself dying.  But perhaps… without that light and life of the Creators, it was naturally doomed to die, to fade out. Perhaps, rather than a slow fluttering of life, a swift end was a merciful and loving fate.  You spoke again and Demiurge willed himself to hear the words through his acute bewilderment.

  “I guess I need to focus on real life now.  But I’ll tell you a secret.”  Your face was turned comically to the side, and you leaned closer as though to avoid the attention of other imaginary beings present around you.  This action was a display of a detail to your conversations he loved. Despite his inability to be a true companion, you still treated him as such and incorporated actions as though nothing were unusual as to the situation, or as to your differences in status and role.  It was another manifestation of the merciful nature you held that you deigned to speak to him thus. You tended to innately understand the desires of all you were near, and by divine intent or not, managed to fulfill them. You had done it for your fellows, you had done it for the whole of Nazarick, and here, you did it for him personally.  His desire to open his lips once again reached into his mind, and he squashed the selfish thought before it could take root. You were voicing your thoughts to him; there was no room in his mind for his own to bloom.

  “...I really would rather not.”  Wait—were you saying you didn’t want to leave them?!  In which case, something was forcing your exit? He felt the corner of his smile twitch at the idea of someone denying him of his Lady.  What being would be so presumptuous as to attempt such a sin as to force you into anything?!

  Peace, he told himself.  Your knowledge was beyond his.  Surely if there was anything to be done, you would have done it.  The energy you had put forth to preserving an echo of Nazarick now made perfect sense, and he found himself accepting it as the pieces fit together.  You did not want to leave, but there was no path by which to stay. You were doing all you could to circumvent the loss. He felt his respect for you deepen, which he would have considered an impossible feat, but this expression of dedication and love for Nazarick proved yet again to surpass his imagination.

  You released a sad breath.  “Well! At least you don’t have to listen to me yap at you constantly.  I’m sure I get pretty annoying.” Ah, if only he could deny that sarcastic accusation!  Such words occasionally soured your voice, and he wished to dash their laughable falsehood from the air.  However, you always returned to “annoy” him after such a statement, so he hoped the words lived only on your tongue, and took no residence in your heart.

  You began to speak again, but the chirping of your tool interrupted more harshly than it had ever sounded.  You turned questioningly from him to it, and he awaited patiently as you attended the blaring bit of creation.  He had grown so lost in the trove of information your words unveiled, he had almost forgotten the goal to etch him into your mirrored world.  He would stand tall and proud, despite what he had just learned. Whether this record was for Lord Ulbert, for all the Supreme Beings, or for you alone, it must be of his best self.  It must shine flawlessly for any who would desire to behold him.

  “No…”  Your words cut the silence of his meditation like a Reality Slash from Lord Touch Me, and he felt the calm he had summoned up threaten to slip away.  “Nonono not now!” Your hands, all four of them, dashed across the two menus, opening up smaller windows, letters and numbers zooming by as he saw you fall deeper and deeper into the mess, angry red messages popping up all around.  You glanced into the corner of your eyes, and the hurry became a frenzy, shoulders pulled back and sitting as high as your earlobes, wings beating at their farthest tips as they extended straight out from your back.

  Was the end upon you already?  Had it come too quickly? The night was almost over, he knew, the day almost at its final second.  Was that the last of this world? Or simply the last of your time together?

  If only he could act.  If only he could do something, however insignificant it may be.  None of his efforts could ever hope to compete with a Supreme Being, could never hope to amount to yours.  But to do something—anything!—other than stand as his currently useless self… he would do it, rather than simply bear witness to your panic.

  As though in response, you turned from the tools, the action like prying yourself from a sinking anchor, and collapsed into him.   _Into_ _him_.  Your arms pressed their strength into his sides, around his neck, and your wings draped their weight over you both.  He felt the despair you were succumbing to as it shook your frame. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, and he felt a flare of resistance to the words.  You had nothing to apologize for. You were nothing but a bestower of blessings, and your sorrowful embrace, undesired as the circumstance might be, still filled Demiurge with a subtle warmth that somehow outpowered even the potency of a raging hellfire.

  If this was the end, if there was truly nothing to be done, then there was only one thing he desired above all else, one wish left in him.  To give you some degree of comfort. Some solace. To speak something of affirmation to you.

  “I shouldn’t have waited,” you continued.

  I should have done something sooner, he wished to say.  I should have done something, anything to lessen this pain for you.  Whatever I could have done, I would have done.

  No… I _should_ do.

  Status and propriety be damned.

  It took every ounce of power he had.  The will to cease your pain drove him to fight against the impossible, and slowly, his arms began to move to echo yours.

  Your voice sounded out, even quieter, closer to his ear.  “I wish I could take you with me.”

  The words flooded through him, and at last his arms were around you, pulling you yet closer, and he felt an edge of your pain melt away, your body relax just an inch, as he was at last able to do what he had desired for so long:

  “And I as well,” he choked out, leveling his voice with as much of his Command Mantra as he was able, hiding the quiver the effort of speaking placed against his throat.

  Before the phrase had died from his tongue, he felt a pulling.  As though someone had taken the outline of his frame and separated it from him, like a towel twisted taut as water ran from it, driven by the force of the material itself.  A gasp hissed between his teeth as the impossible words ended, and he felt a freedom in his chest and limbs he had never before experienced.

  And then you were gone.

  His arms hung limply, circling the air before him as though he were preparing for an elaborate bow.  He looked at them blankly. Then his eyes closed, and a shudder went through him as he drew his hands inward.

  The sound of magma boiling beyond the walls of his home left his ears.  The occasional crumble of breaking rock did not disturb his silence. His tail curled at his feet and held steady, unmoving as he breathed in the space where you had stood.

  A new day had come, and merciful be the Supreme Beings, he was still here.  But you were not.

  At least you knew, he thought.  He had been able to say it. He had spoken in affirmation to your desires.

  That would have to be enough.

  Something sounded, and his ears twitched in agitation.  Opening his eyes with a scowl, he scanned for whatever would dare disturb his hold on this final moment.  The figure before him froze and bowed at the waist, sensing his displeasure.

  “Lord Demiurge,” the demon general Envy stuttered.  “You requested I keep you informed of anything unusual.”

  Tail lifting from his feet to curl authoritatively behind him he nodded, dropping his arms to fold across his chest.  Envy seemed different, in the same way he himself felt changed; there was more movement to her body, a greater presence of being.  Whatever had occurred, it must have happened throughout Nazarick. Perhaps you had gifted them all, in the last of Lady Zoba’s moments in this realm.  Perhaps they all now benefited from your benevolence, and would forever beyond your absence. How perfectly like you.

  “Very well.  What have you to report?”

  “A message from the throne room, conveyed from Lord Momonga himself.  You are called to gather with the Guardians.”

  Lord Momonga?!  He had stayed with them?

  A pang of excitement at the incredible boon as well as despair at the increased loss beat at his chest.  Envy glanced once at his shoulder, then furtively around the room.

  “Forgive me, but… I may have been mistaken, I… had believed to have witnessed Lady Zoba enter here as well.  Is she... not…?”

  Demiurge put a hand to his shoulder, turning to see what had drawn Envy’s attention.  A single stain of dark had sunk into the fabric, and as he ran a finger over, it occurred to him what it was.  Pulling his handkerchief swiftly from his breast pocket, he pressed it over the spot.

  “Lady Zoba has been called against her wishes into the land beyond, of the Supreme Beings,” he said quietly.  An almost indiscernible gasp escaped Envy. He did not blame her; after knowing that Lord Momonga had stayed with them, the hope that the other last Supreme Being was still present as well must have been overpoweringly tempting to believe.  “I appreciate you delivering this news to me, Envy. Allow me a moment to prepare myself.”

  The demon general, bodyguard to the Arch Devil Demiurge, was well aware of the time spent between him and the divine Four-Horned Djinn, as were many of the denizens of Nazarick.  But she personally suspected the specific sorrow her Lord might be feeling in this moment. With a heart heavy for him, she excused herself.

  Pressing until he was sure the moisture had transferred to the cotton, Demiurge raised the handkerchief from his shoulder.  There it sat, the tear of a Supreme Being, an immeasurable object. Shed for him.

  Steadying himself with a breath, he delicately folded the cloth so as to keep the light stain protected within the fabric and placed it gently once again into his breast pocket.  This pause he had already taken would surely cause him to be among the last to heed his Lord’s call, but he suspected that if his Lord knew the cause, he would approve of the effort.  Honoring your last moment was a task worthy of a delay.

  An itch rising in his back as he began to will forth his wings to speed his arrival, he stepped towards the exit, but before the limbs could spring forth, something caught his eye.  There on the ground sat an object, a rounded triangle discarded as though it were no longer of use to its owner. He understood what it was before he lifted it and turned it over.

  The mask of Lady Zoba grinned up at him, the gold embellishments seeming deeper than ever before.  Here was the image he had loved to gaze beneath, and you had gifted it here to him in your parting, the half of you that belonged to Nazarick.

  He had heard your final words.  He had understood you did not wish your work to end.

  You had loved every creature within the walls of the tomb, as did he.  You had strived for the advancement and ultimate good of Nazarick, as did he.  You had over and over again given everything you had to bring the wishes of your fellow Supreme Beings to pass.  And now, with renewed purpose, so would he. He would take up your mantle. Whatever wish Lord Momonga uttured, he would strive to attain.  He would not let your legacy die.

  He would force the submission of all existence, if that was what was wished, to honor you.

  Tucking the visage carefully into his jacket, he sprouted his wings and spread them wide, remembering your wingspan draped over you both.  That memory would be his new treasure, he realized as he took to the sulphuric sky. He wished even at that moment to lose himself within it once again.

  But for right now, the thought of serving your memory well drove him forward rather than stilling him; after all, there was a meeting to attend.

  And his Lord wished him to be present.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope that was fun to read rather than just bumming anyone out?... After all, life mimics art and vice versa and all that, and lemme tell ya guys, I need a vacation.
> 
> If you need a laugh after all that, check out the tumblr blog I made for my fic! I post inspiration for me to feed from there, as well as some of my own silly posts for Overlord in general! It’s reallifeontheseventhfloor and while I don’t know how to hyperlink in author’s notes, you can probably find it by looking in the recent “overlord” tags for the person posting way too many incorrect Demiurge quotes. That’ll be me.
> 
> Have a great day, everyone!!


End file.
